


Code 3

by HackerGoddessFelicity



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Abuse, Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Medical, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, F/M, Medical Trauma, Paramedic!Oliver, Trigger warnings to be added as it is revealed in the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7926178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HackerGoddessFelicity/pseuds/HackerGoddessFelicity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity Smoak and her daughter were just another set of car crash victims Oliver helped escape a crushed Mini Cooper. So why could he not stop thinking about the woman that babbled uncontrollably and the little girl that gave him a new appreciation for bunnies?</p><p>Paramedic!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my goodness it’s finally time! A huge huge huge thank you to all the people that have helped me through my first story for OFBB so far! Nelly I know I’ve told you this a million times already but my mind is still blown every single time I look at this amazing art you created! Nadine thank you for motivating me with baby animals and shirtless Oliver Queen ;). And Claire thank you for being the most patient person on the face of the earth. Honestly...I’ve been dead air this entire summer (and somehow I never sent Chapter 1 to you????) but I promise I will stop doing that! To you all....THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!

_He lost track of how long his arms moved in the repeated pattern. He was sure his brain had switched to muscle memory because he no longer had to think about keeping up the rhythm. The noise and chaos around him had long ago faded and all he could hear was the sound of blood rushing through his own ears. His right hand burned and ached from the grip that his left hand had on it.  But he couldn’t stop, he wouldn’t. Another glance at the heart monitor above her head revealed that the only waves on the screen were the ones that were a result of the compressions he was giving._

_“She’s gone, Queen.”_

_No._ No _. She was a fighter, he knew she was. It only took a single look at her to see that; the youth of a child still in her features. The streak of crimson ran from her hairline to her jaw, the blonde strands clumped and stained red._

_“Oliver.” He met the older man’s eyes in the rearview mirror, the bags under his brown irises adding more years than he had._

_“She hasn’t even lived, John!”_

_“Life isn’t fair. Things happen and good people die young. The sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be, otherwise you’ll be spending your entire life carrying the weight of wondering ‘if only.’”_

No _. He wasn’t stopping. She was right there, he knew she was. With all the willpower he could muster, he forced himself to stop the compressions only long enough to grab the defibrillator above his head and the scissors from his pocket. He finally noticed that the maroon shirt she was wearing was originally white as he cut through the front of the fabric. He tried not to think about the origin of the color as he attached the pads to her chest._

_All he heard in his ears was the buzzing as he sent the shock surging through her body._

* * *

 

6:15 AM.

With a sigh, Oliver pressed his fingers into his eyes in an attempt to distract himself from the heavy weight of his eyelids. He only had forty-five minutes left until the end of his night shift and the world seemed to be mocking him and making time go by as slow as physically possible.  Oliver hates night shift with a passion that surpasses anything he’s ever remotely encountered that he didn’t like.

Every since Oliver was a kid, he always had to be doing something to keep himself occupied.  His tolerance for boredom was rock-bottom low and that has never changed in all these years. When he was little he would chase Thea around the mansion. Up and down the stairs, their bedrooms, and through the seemingly endless number of hallways, there were little marks of all of their antics; a little knick in the paint here and a scratch in the floor there. In the beginning, his mother would constantly make sure that all the little imperfections were fixed. When they were still doing it years later, she stopped. Moira would have said to anyone else that asked that she learned to live with the spots because she could never keep up with her two kids. Oliver, though, always knew that she secretly loved them. It never failed that she would always end up telling a story of her kids whenever guests would ask about the blemishes and the smile that would always graze her face when she did is one thing about his mother that Oliver will never forget for as long as he lives.

In his height of debauchery as a teenager with Tommy, relieving boredom would involve a lot of clubs they got into way underage (and then subsequently kicked out of), a lot of girls they could charm with the playboy smirk, and a lot of alcohol that was also somehow never enough.  

Now as an adult, he has to be moving at all times at work. From the station, to a call site, to a hospital, and back again, Oliver never has the opportunity to sit still before dispatch is sending him out again. The night hours, though, are often filled with long stretches of time without a single hum and it drives him absolutely nuts. Unfilled hours allows the time to catch up to him and then he ends of being drained of all energy by the end of his shift twelve hours later.

Another glance at his watch.

6:17 AM.

With an audible groan, Oliver stands and makes his way to the kitchen. Coffee. Coffee was definitely needed. Immediately.

As the coffee maker comes to life, the sound of the television in the common room fills his ears, along with grunts of irritation. Oliver couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him as he listened to one of his closest mentors and friends watch yesterday’s football game that he recorded for later.

With his perfectly tempered black coffee in hand, Oliver walked the opposite direction he came. What he walked into he wished he could say was unusual, but it really wasn’t. The physically intimidating beast that was John Diggle was practically rocking back on forth on the sofa. Oliver was barely acknowledged as he sunk into the other end of the couch.

“What are you even doing?! Have you not learned anything from the last possession? _You. Can’t. Run. Past. The. Defense!_ ” The sound of numerous referees blowing whistles filled the small room as it came through the speakers of the television. Oliver let out a chuckle as he watched John take another seat on the cracked leather sofa after having stood up from frustration. He was barely spared a glance before John was up from his seat again as another play was set up. “Oh come on! Why are you in the I-formation? You’re at 3rd and 17! The right tackle will have you down before you’ve taken two steps!” Sure enough, the play ended with the quick tackle of the running back and a breath of a remark from John. “Oh, my bad, you made it to _three_ steps.”

“Please turn that off before you end up hulking out and breaking something.”

“I’m not going to break anything,” he huffed as he sat down again and ran his hands over his face.

“Tell that to the table whose leg is currently being held on with duct tape and a prayer.”

That particular John Diggle outburst was one to remember. In a rare instance, the expulsion of energy from the man was not from anger or frustration but rather complete and utter joy.

The Rockets had somehow miraculously come from behind to tie the score in the ninth inning, and all it took was one final strike for the table to look like a piece of breakaway furniture from a movie set. All Oliver heard was a loud smack as Diggle slammed his hands against the surface in celebration and then a thump as the table fell to the floor with three and a half legs remaining.

It was quite amusing actually; a whole team of some of the best first responders could save your life without a blink, but fixing the infamous coffee table leg had become the bane of all of their existences. Every person in the unit at one point or another had tried various glues and cements in an attempt to get the table leg seamlessly back on. But at some point, whether it was an hour later or a week, the leg would give out.

Oliver had the most recent attempt yesterday and was the only one that gave up on trying to make the fix look “nice”. He had stopped by the hardware store before work and bought a giant roll of silver duct tape and then proceeded to wrap a third of the tape around the piece of wood and the corner of the table top like he was wrapping a splint. It had seemed the most successful so far, but only time would tell.

“Nice wrap job, by the way. I taught you well,” Diggle said with a chuckle as he fast forwarded through the current set of commercials.

With a roll of his eyes, Oliver picked up his coffee from where it was resting on the arm of the couch. He could already start to feel its magical effects as the aroma entered his nose, but before he could take a much-needed sip, the static of the radio on his shoulder broke through his momentary peace. _Well there’s another wasted cup._ Simultaneously, he lowered his cup with one hand and turned the volume on the radio up with the other.

_“29-Delta-2 just past Mile Marker 7 on North Hollow Road, all units requested.”_

Within a moment, the entire mood had changed. The light banter was over as both he and John wordlessly got up to move to the garage as Oliver answered the callout with a short, “Unit 11 responding.”

First glance inside the station quickly revealed who was who in the place. The veterans treated the building like their home (sometimes their pig sty, to Oliver’s annoyance) because it practically was, the fresh-out-of-school graduates were lingering around trying to get the attention they wanted from the veterans, and the ones that were there getting their practical experience were similar to that of lost puppies and deers in headlights. So the moment that he and John walked through the building with a mission, all attention turned solely to them.

John led without any introduction or formalities as he addressed the techs. “Who’s never done a high mech?” Only one hand raised in the small group, the newest addition to Unit 11. “Alright, grab your stuff. Palmer, you drive.”

Within seconds they were on the street, Oliver and John in the tactical truck while the ambulance followed behind, both with lights and sirens blaring.

The sun had barely broken over the horizon, creating a warm glow over the streets and even though it was the middle of April, temperatures had gotten unseasonably cool overnight.

Oliver shivered minutely in his seat. He could see Diggle briefly glance at him as he blew through an intersection that no longer had traffic going through it. If anyone else besides John had asked him why a chill went down his spine he would have blamed it on accord to his lacking accommodation to the temperature change. But it _was_ John. Which meant the context of the situation was already understood.

“You good?”

Oliver didn't want to answer the question because there wasn't really a right answer. What is the definition of “good”?

He only has the nightmares once a month.

His right shin still hurts when it rains. In the end, though, it's nothing compared to the pain he felt after the initial impact.

His days no longer ended in guilt, tears, and an empty bottle of whatever he got his hands on first.  

Was it good that this pain was slowly going away? Or was it good that he still felt it? Was it good that he still felt the touch of their skin and heard the sounds of their final words in his head?

So, in general, was Oliver good? He had no idea. But for now? Going to save a life? “Yeah…I'm good.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the response to the first chapter! It's starts picking up now!

The further up the highway they went, the further the traffic backed up and the slower they went as the stopped cars attempted to make room for the vehicles to pass.  The steady throb in Oliver’s temples multiplied as the morning rush hour crowd started voicing their annoyance of not moving through their horns; as if making the most noise will somehow get the line they’re in to disappear.

“Remind me again why I decided I wanted to work with people? Because I just forgot all the reasons why I’m here instead of living out my days on a beach,” Diggle huffed beside him as he released another blare of the sirens to move a woman that was currently too busy texting to notice the truck.  Diggle attempted to hide the smirk on his face when the woman nearly threw her phone out the open driver’s-side window at the sound but failed miserably.

“Because you get to do things like that,” Oliver replied with a smirk of his own.

“Strange, I thought it was the whole ‘wanting to make a difference and saving lives’ thing,” Diggle said as he arrived at the accident site and was directed to an open spot by the supervising officer.

Oliver gave him another smirk as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door in one motion.  Hopping out of the truck, he walked around the front of the vehicle and approached the officer waiting for him, the sounds of sirens filling his ears and the barrage of emergency lights momentarily blinding him.  “What do we have?”   
  
“Woman swerved to avoid an animal in the road and crashed through the guardrail. Flipped several times and landed right-side-up at the bottom of the ravine. She got lucky, twenty more feet forward and she would've been wrapped up in the tree line.” 

Oliver looked towards where the man was indicating. A small group of bystanders and emergency vehicles was partly blocking his view of the dense forest, but he didn't need to look to know where the stump was -- twenty-five feet from his current position, another fifty steps past the sign warning of a sharp curve ahead. 

The familiar tightness in his chest returned and his body suddenly felt as if it was made of lead, but Oliver took some strange relief in the fact that he still physically reacted to this place.

“Any other passengers?”   
  
“Eyewitnesses say there’s a little girl in the back as well, most likely the woman’s daughter.”   
  
“Injuries?”   
  
“Unknown right now.  The car’s sitting on unstable rock ten feet from the river.  One wrong step down there and we’re gonna cause a small rock slide and send that car downstream.  The hospital won’t let us call the AirMedic in until they have a status report.”   
  
Oliver heard the unspoken message.  If they were alive and had urgent enough injuries, the helicopter would be sent out and the passengers would be airlifted from the accident site and taken to Starling General.  If they ended up succumbing to their injuries, he and Digg would be performing just a recovery, taking the bodies back up the hill themselves before calling the coroner to come pick them up.  

Because, apparently, saving a twenty minute flight’s worth of gas is more valuable than human life.  Even in the game of saving lives, the powers that be still only cared about the bottom line and saving money.  It made Oliver sick if he thought about it for too long.   
  
John had since joined his side, the emergency care bag holding the bare necessities hanging over his shoulder. "How long have they been down there?"   
  
"At least fifteen minutes. Captain Lance wants you two to lead in the rescue, because if we're going to be honest, no one has any idea how to go about this without disrupting the balance." Oliver nodded his head in silent understanding as he walked towards the gaping hole in the metal barrier where the vehicle had made its initial impact, John right behind him.    
  
The car -- he thinks it's a Mini Cooper but it's hard to tell from the mangled form it's in -- was sitting on a diagonal sixty feet from the road. The cliff was a forty-five degree angle down to the river, but the slight leveling towards the bottom stopped the car from going any further. 

Because the windows had been shattered on the descent down, there was no barrier between him and the high pitched sobs that had just started coming from the back of the vehicle. The tightness in Oliver’s chest lessened slightly at the sound.  A least there was one survivor.  Whether the cries were from physical pain or emotional trauma he wasn't sure, but either way it was heartbreaking to listen to.    
  
Oliver’s brain starting firing, trying to come up with a way to retrieve them without sending the car into the raging waters below or injuring himself or the passengers in the process. He spoke without context or even directly addressing John, but he knew he didn't have to, the same way John does to him.    
  
"I'm thinking two lines going from the front and rear axle. One to the wrecker and the other around that oak tree. I'd like to get a second truck in here, but we just don't have the time or the road space to maneuver it."   


“I'll go coordinate with the wrecker, grab Palmer and you all can start repelling down.”

With a nod of his head Oliver jogged back to the truck, opening the side access. With nimble and memorized movements, the harness was out and almost uncomfortably secured around his hips within moments. 

The sandy-haired newly graduated tech came running up with the sound of gravel crunching under his feet as Oliver was making quick work of his helmet and gloves.  He grabbed the longest length of rope that was in the truck, throwing it over his arm, and wordlessly handed the other spiral to Palmer.

Oliver was just walking back to the guardrail when Diggle was just finishing his conversation with the owner of the towing company.

“The wrecker’s ready to go whenever you are,” he said as he lowered the volume on the radio on his shoulder that was currently only emitting static.

With a nod, Oliver started unrolling the rope and starting the tedious process of securing the line around the harness.  “Let’s have Ray start securing the car while I do the initial assessment.  I want to try to get them out of here as fast as possible.”

With a final yank on his setup, checking the security for the third time, Oliver stepped over a part of the guardrail that was still intact and stable.  With a nod towards Palmer who was standing on the other side of the gaping metal, the two started the urgent but slow process of the rescue.

* * *

The climb down to the car was taking more time than he was liking, but every step had to be calculated before he took it. Oliver was constantly looking down at his feet to find the most stable rock to secure his next step without adding too much weight to send it tumbling towards the car behind him. At the same time he glanced to his left at Palmer who was currently guiding the first steel cable towards one end of the car to secure it and, more importantly, prevent it from sliding any closer to the raging waters while they attempted the rescue.

Oliver cursed under his breath as the rock that he just stepped on crumbled under his foot and shifted the stones around it.  He listened as several small rocks went tumbling towards the river, the steady  _ clunk, clunk  _ changing as it encountered other rocks, metal, and finally stopping with a resounding  _ splash!  _ as it met the edge of the water.

With even slower movements from there on out, Oliver finally made it to the bottom.  Letting out a breath, he turned around to assess the scene just as Ray made the last step down.  

Up close, the car was in even worse shape than Oliver thought when he had first seen it from the road above him.  There were fragments of plastic, glass, and metal littering the ground where the vehicle sat, or at least what was left of it.  With the amount of metal that was cratered and currently invading the cabin of the car, Oliver knew that this just became a Jaws of Life job.

Pained cries filling his ears is what drove him towards the mass of metal.  When he reached the driver’s side door, Oliver came face to face with a shaking blonde that looked too afraid to really move.  She didn’t acknowledge when he came up to her, but was instead trying to calm the frantic toddler in the backseat through the rearview mirror.

“It’s alright, baby girl. We’re gonna be okay.”

The woman that couldn’t have been any older than her mid-twenties looked as if she was about to start crying herself when she saw Oliver standing there.  She had several lacerations on her face and hands, most likely from the broken windows, and she had a large blood stain on the side of her blue sweater.  Even though he couldn’t immediately find the source of the flow, Oliver knew it would have to be stopped, or a least slowed, and soon.

As he continued his quick assessment, Diggle’s voice crackled through the radio attached to him. “Do I need to get the Jaws ready?” When Oliver saw the quick flash of panic in her eyes he was quick to give her a reassuring smile, though he could tell that she didn’t find comfort in the action at the current moment.  Oliver turned his body away from the woman hoping that the sound from the river next to him would drown out his own voice to her.

“Yeah, this roof’s gonna have to come off. I’m also gonna need a backboard, a C-collar, and go ahead and call the AirMedic now since it’s going to take them a bit to get here.”

“Roger that.”

The sound of a groan had him turning and facing the woman through the open space where the window used to be. Out of instinct to comfort Oliver reached his hand through the opening and grabbed the hand that she probably didn't know was shaking. “Just hang in there, alright?”

“Yeah… it’s just… I just paid this car off.” 

In spite of the situation, Oliver couldn't help but let out a breath of a laugh. At his response the woman let out a smile of her own that turned into a slight grimace when she took too deep of a breath, gripping his still held hand a little tighter.  

“Easy, easy, easy. You're okay,” he soothed as his latex-covered thumb began running across her knuckles absentmindedly. Simultaneously trying to get her mind off the pain and testing for any sign of brain injury, he asked, “Can you tell me your name, hon?” 

“Fe-Felicity,” she replied breathlessly. 

“I'm Oliver,” he answered, giving her a reassuring smile.  “I’m going to go ahead and get your daughter out. Try not to move too much, alright?”  Oliver received a slight nod in response. “What’s her name?”

The answer was wavering and took several attempts to get out but he eventually got a shaky, “Emerson.”

Oliver quickly moved around the other side of the car where he could reach the car seat where little Emerson was still secured with tears streaming down her pale cheeks.  Besides the fact that she was obviously emotionally distressed, the toddler appeared to be unaffected.

“Hey sweetheart,” Oliver said with a quiet voice, lowering his height to make himself seem less intimidating. “I’m Ollie.  I’m going to get you out of here, alright?”

With a new wave of sobs, Emerson strained against the belts holding her in the seat, desperately stretching her little arms as far as they could go trying to reach her mother. “ _ Momma! _ ”

Oliver glanced back to the front of the car where Ray had just finished securing the cable.  Catching Oliver’s eye, Palmer gave him a thumbs up, signalling that it was secure enough to remove the toddler.

“It’s okay, Em. It’s okay. Go with Ollie, it’ll be okay.”

Seeing that as his sign to go ahead and remove her, Oliver reached into the hole where there was no longer glass and started freeing the girl from the restraints.  The girl couldn’t have been older than three but she had a strength that rivaled most of the kids he treated twice her age.  With some effort, Oliver undid the buckles and managed to lift the girl through the opening, narrowly missing hitting her head on a piece of metal had his hand not been on top of her head.  Moving her to his hip with an arm tight around her, he moved around the car.  More importantly, Oliver moved towards safety.

“No! No!  _ Momma! _ ” HIs left ear was ringing with the volume at which she was practically screeching, but he just wrapped his arm around her tighter as he started up the bank.  Oliver was actually surprised by the amount of protectiveness that this little girl showed for her mother, especially when she didn’t quite know what was going on herself.

The journey back took twice as long as he was now doing it with only one hand available.  By the time Diggle had met him at the edge, Emerson’s screams had quieted to soft hiccups.  She was constantly moving her head and looking around her, her nervousness about the unknown clear, but her arms had become like a vise around his neck. 

So when Oliver tried to hand Emerson off to Diggle’s waiting arms, she was having absolutely none of it.  Her little limbs wrapped impossibly tighter around him and Oliver had to move his head slightly to avoid the barrage of blonde curls as she furiously shook her head.

“Em, it’s going to be okay,” he said as he subtly tried to move her more towards the center of his chest to ease the firm hold she had on him.

“No! Momma! Get Momma!”

“I promise I’m gonna get her, but you have to let go of me first.”  He watched as her brows furrowed, trying to decide if what Oliver was telling her was the only way.  After several glances between the two men, Emerson finally released the hold that she had on Oliver’s neck and allowed herself to be passed off to Diggle.

As soon as the older man had his hands securely on the frazzled girl, he made quick work of moving to the ambulance before the small amount of trust that Emerson had given him diminished.

Ignoring the aches in his shoulders from his one-armed climb, Oliver did a double check on this harness and ropes that he knew hadn’t moved or loosened.  With another deep breath and a nod towards Captain Lance who was now watching him, Oliver started the trek back down the ravine.  

One down, one to go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rescue begins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is being put up so late tonight! Work and school are taking every spare minute I have!

Without a doubt, Emerson was her mother’s daughter. 

The entire time she was being carried out Felicity could hear her baby’s screams for her. It pulled at something inside of Felicity that made her want to climb through the door beside her and run to her child, bleeding and possible broken bones be damned. 

It took Felicity several minutes to realize that by the time the sight of her daughter just became a small dot of blonde, the sound was gone. The crying had stopped. 

Her daughter, a girl that met the eyes of few and trusted even fewer, was silent as the man she encountered mere minutes ago held her. What surprised Felicity even more was when the arms of her child refused to unwind from his neck when he reached the top of the road. 

Even from here Felicity could see the indecision flash across Emerson’s face as Oliver tried to encourage her to move into the arms of another man, whose arms were straining in the safety jacket he was wearing. 

After one more glance in Felicity's direction, Emerson gave in and raised her arms to the larger man. Before Felicity could blink her child was being moved in the direction of the ambulance whose lights were currently starting to give her a headache. 

Or was that whiplash? She wasn't sure. 

While she was trying to make the pounding in her head go away, the crunch of rocks under large boots signaled the return of the paramedic. 

“Alright, let's get you out of here,” he said, the sound of zippers being undone mixing with his voice. 

She could hear the muffled sound as he got whatever paramedic-y supplies he needed ready and she knew that he was talking to her -- whether it was legitimate questions or just something to distract her, she wasn't sure -- but Felicity couldn't comprehend any of it. 

Now that her child was out of harm’s way and out of immediate view of Felicity, she was now losing control. She couldn’t breathe and  _ everything  _ hurt. The tears she thought she had been too shocked to let out in the immediate aftermath now came with a vengeance as her chest tightened and her breaths became rapid in an attempt to get any amount of air into her lungs. 

“Hey, Felicity, you’re okay. Slow, deep breaths, alright?” She was  _ trying _ to do what his trusting voice was telling her to do but her mind had other plans. All she could focus on was the sheer panic and anxiety that was now filling her.  _ What if she died? What if they couldn't stop the bleeding in time and she just died right here in this ravine? Who would take care of Emerson? How can her little girl grow up without a mother?  _ The more she thought about the anxiety, the more panicked she became and soon the edges of her vision were starting to darken. “Slow down, hon, slow down. Felicity. Hey, look at me, breathe with me.” 

The next thing she felt was warm latex-covered hands uncurling her left fist and trapping it between his fingers and the cotton of his shirt. Even though she was momentarily distracted by the hard muscle, she could still feel the steady staccato of his heart as her hand moved with the rises and falls of his chest. 

How was he so  _ calm _ ? There was a place on her body that was the source of her blood loss and at this point in time, it could not be stopped. This is the type of situation that no normal person should be calm in. But if you wanted anyone to be level-headed during a time like this, she supposed it was the super hot paramedic that was currently saving her life. But let's face it, if she were to die, there are worse things in the world to look at as she went.

As if it was magic, his touch mesmerized her and, more importantly, returned her breathing to something that was considered more normal. His breath of a laugh is what drew her out of her dazed state with a confused, “What?”

“Sorry, nothing. It’s just...no one’s ever called me hot while I was in the middle of trying to keep them from passing out from hyperventilation. And while I'm flattered, I don't plan on being the last thing you see as long as I have something to say about it.” 

Now she was absolutely sure that she was going to die. If it wasn’t from blood loss, it was going to be from complete and utter humiliation. If she knew the movement wasn't going to hurt, she would've tossed her head back into the headrest. “Of course I still babble out loud in life-threatening car crashes. Lucky me,” she mumbles and closes her eyes, as if doing so will magically make the moment disappear. 

She felt the draw to keep her eyes closed and revel in the feeling. It just felt  _ so  _ good. It felt like it does when she finally gets to sleep without her brain constantly running with thoughts of programs and codes and software updates. The feeling of nothingness and peace…

In the next moment the hand that was still on his chest was being tapped repeatedly, trying to draw her attention. “Let me see those eyes, hon. Unconsciousness is what we don't want, remember?”

“Right,” she whispered, blinking several times trying to clear the fogginess from her head.  She tried to find something in front of her to concentrate on but she couldn’t see through the severely cracked glass that used to be her windshield. And looking at all the lines just made her head hurt.

“Alright Felicity,” the voice beside her speaking again having resumed his task before her near hyperventilation. “Can you tell me what your feeling? What hurts the most right now?”

Well everything hurts. Trying to distinguish one pain from another was nearly impossible and the thought of putting all of her concentration  _ on  _ the pain rather than trying to forget about it just made her want to cry.

Oliver must have sensed her internal dilemma and came to the rescue. Again. “Is it mainly just your side or would you say you can feel it all throughout your abdomen?”

“Just the side right now,” Felicity said without pause.

“Any trouble breathing?” 

“Not right now,” her tone obviously alluding to what happened not five minutes ago. She could see in her peripheral that he was grabbing the stethoscope from the bag he had opened and placing it into his ears. Felicity prepared herself for the shock of cold metal on her chest but was surprised and eternally grateful when she instead saw Oliver rubbing the piece on his shirt sleeve quickly in an attempt to warm it up just a little before placing it on her skin.

“I always hate it when people don’t warm it up,” he casually smiled. “Can you take as deep a breath as you can?” Felicity did as she was told while he was intently listening before he would move to a different location.

Clearly content with what he heard, Oliver took off the earpieces before folding the device in half and stuffing it back into the bag just as the radio on his shoulder was coming to life.

“Chopper will be here in twelve. Palmer’s sending down the board and collar. You ready?”

“Yep, start sending everything down. I’ve got to get her secure and then take out this windshield but we’re ready.”

“Coming your way now.”

Before Felicity could register what was happening, a bright orange board came zipping down a delivery line that she had no recollection of being set up. Oliver unhooked it from the mechanism easily before giving the all clear to the men above to send down the next item.

Felicity missed the arrival of what she assumed to be the neck brace because she was too focused on the monstrosity of a machine that was currently being team lifted down the bank. 

That was when it became real.

She was in a car accident. Said involved car is about five minutes away from being torn apart by a hydraulic tool that she really never wanted to encounter in her life.

Felicity wasn’t surprised when she came back to herself after zoning out. By this time the shattered windshield was now gone and Oliver was currently unfolding a fireproof blanket. He carefully laid it out across the interior of the car and over her lap with the help of the other large man standing at her passenger-side door.

“We’re going to drape this over the top of the two seats just to make sure that you stay safe, okay? It’s going to cover your head but I’m going to be standing here if you need me and my hand will be right inside this window. At certain times you will feel some vibrations through the car, but it’s totally normal. Ready to get started?”

Well she didn’t really have another option now did she? At her quick nod, Oliver raised the grey blanket above her head.

Felicity couldn’t see anything but when the roar filled her ears as the machine came to life, she desperately reached for Oliver’s hand that she knew was somewhere near her. She found it just as the cutting of metal started and the grip Felicity had on his hand probably resembled the grip she had on the steering wheel when she first went through the guardrail what seemed like hours ago.

The only reaction he had to her was the continuous rubbing of her knuckles with his thumb.

If she was hurting him he didn’t say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I had to stop there ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get Felicity out of that damn car!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really thought all these chapters were longer when I was writing them...Oh well. I'd rather have a natural ending to them than force flow for the sake of word count.

There was a particularly sharp vibration through the car as the hydraulic cut through a thicker piece of metal and Oliver barely felt it as two of his knuckles popped under her grasp.

He could tell how scared she was.  Hell, the sound of sparking and metal being sliced in two, a sound he couldn’t even begin to describe, still scared  _ him _ . The loud roar only reminded Oliver of the time that he was on the other side of the machine years ago.

The only thing he could do was keep his hold on her and remind her that she wasn’t alone, a comfort he wished he had had himself.

Seven minutes and several adjustments of people and equipment later, the four main posts that were supporting the roof of the car had been separated from the body and being held by several responders. Oliver knew he needed to get out of the way, but first he needed his hand back first. He crouched down to the window and using the hand Felicity currently didn’t have in a death grip, he gently starting removing the blanket that was still covering her head. The rate at which she moved to look at him was enough to give her whiplash if she didn’t have it already. Oliver could tell by the slight grimace on her face that she immediately regretted the movement having forgotten about his advice to  _ not  _ move.

“Woah, easy, easy,” he said, placing a hand gently on her, opting for her chin rather than her sliced open temple. “I need to move back for a minute so they can move the roof, okay?”

“Don’t go,” she spoke quickly. If possible, her hand tightened even more around his hand. “Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” With a nod of her head and some battling of her tight hand, Oliver stepped back. While Diggle led the count on the lifting of the roof, Oliver walked over to the makeshift supplies pile they had created and picked up the neck brace and backboard.

The crunch of gravel mixed with the sound of velcro being ripped apart as Oliver returned to the side of the car. “I know this is not the most comfortable thing in the world but it does need to be on until it can be cleared that you don’t have a neck injury, alright?”

At her approval Oliver carefully maneuvered the plastic brace around her head before securing the velcro.

“Chopper’s two minutes out. You good?” Oliver turned to his side to see John coming back towards him followed by Ray.

“Yeah we’re ready to move her. Palmer, get on the other side. John, will you grab the rest of the stuff while I brief her? You can take over this door and I’ll get in the back.”

“I started to say, there may not be a roof on this thing anymore but there’s no way in hell I could fit in there,” Diggle said as he moved. Normally Oliver would have chuckled at the comment but he had tuned into procedural mode now.

“Alright Felicity, the helicopter is here now so we’re going to get you secured and ready to go, okay? The number one thing I need you to do for me is to not move your head and stay as still as you can. I’m going to get behind you and hold your head still, Ray here is going to sit in the seat next to you and hold your legs when we turn you, and Dig is going to be on your other side. We’re going to slowly turn you until your back faces this open door then the board will go underneath you. You’ll be laid down on the board and then slid up the rest of the way before we start securing you. If you feel any pain at any time just let us know, alright?”

“O-okay,” she whispered, her voice becoming shaky once more.

“I know it’s scary but everything is going to be just fine,” he said with a smile as he stood to his full height and moved to the back door. With the roof now gone, the tightness in the hinges was gone and the door opened easily. Getting as comfortable as he could, Oliver situated himself in the back, avoiding the sharp metal, and carefully put both hands around the headrest and framed her skull, holding her head in position. As soon as John propped the backboard against the side of the now open driver’s-side door he moved to support Felicity’s chest and back as Ray made sure that her legs were free to move. “Everyone ready?” Oliver asked. At their approvals he continued. “We’re moving on three. One, two, three.”

In one motion they all began to rotate in several short, coordinated moves until Felicity’s back was in the open doorway and her feet were on the opposite seat. Because the roof was no longer there Oliver was able to maintain his stabilization of her head as he stepped out of the car and took over John’s spot.

“Board coming in behind you,” John said to his left, a hand landing on his shoulder to physical warn him of his presence. The backboard was laid on the seat, the leather making it easier to move right next to her body, as Diggle supported the other end that was still in the air.

“Lowering on my count,” Oliver said, before leading the countdown. In a second Felicity was lying flat on her back and in the next the rest of her body was on the hard plastic as the unit moved as one and slid her.

In quick synchronization John and Ray began securing Felicity to the board while Oliver could hear the basket stretcher being lowered into the space behind them. When her legs and torso were secure Oliver glanced down to where he was still holding Felicity’s head.

From her position staring up at the sky Felicity could clearly see the helicopter she was about to be lifted into and Oliver could see just as clearly the fear and tears that were building in her eyes. With unconscious thought Oliver began rubbing his thumbs across her cheeks trying to lessen her anxiety. The fact that he was only smearing the blood on one of her cheeks and getting more on his gloves never crossed his mind.

Large hands crossed his field of vision where he was staring at her face and he looked away long enough to see John placing the immobilizers on either side of her head. Oliver finally removed his hands before peeling the backing on a piece of tape John had handed him and placing it across the foam pieces and over her head. 

Turning around to her side, Oliver leaned over so she could finally look at him right side up. “It’s time to load you, alright?” On a team lift, Felicity was quickly moved, lowered, and secured into the basket waiting for her. He quickly looked at the sky and tried to make out the person above them waiting at the helicopter door for her arrival. He smirked when saw who it was. “You see that guy up there?” he said, pointing in the direction he just looked. “That’s Roy. He annoys me on a daily basis and I never have time to get him back. So would you do me a favor and make this ride a living hell for him?” 

“Consider it done.” Oliver couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face as she let out a mix of a sound that was more laughing than crying.

“There’s that smile,” he said encouragingly as he gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

After she gave him another curve of her lips, Oliver looked to the sky and gave the signal to Roy who immediately started the guiding of the wire stretcher back up.

He watched from the bottom as the basket rose higher and higher, the person it carried seeming smaller.  As she and Harper disappeared into the open door of the chopper, the door slamming behind them both, it rose in altitude in the sky before making a loop and heading back in the direction of Starling General.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the love that I've been getting on this! I couldn't even begin to explain what this means to me!
> 
> THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU
> 
> And as always let me know what you all think in the reviews!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet back up with Emerson!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is coming late but I didn't have any wifi to upload until today! Other unexpected delays permitting, another chapter will be up on Wednesday (unless you all like Saturdays better??).

Oliver collected what was left of the gear he carried down and started his ascent back up the hill.  The mangled car would be left for now for the towing company to deal with. He could start to feel the aches in his muscles growing as he ripped off the gloves that he knew would make his hands reek of plastic until he took a shower later.  John was loading up the last of the supplies that they hadn’t used, which had been few, as he walked up to the truck, loosening the harness around his hips as he went.  He was starting the slow process of winding up the rope that had been attached to him when John stopped him.   
  
“I got this, man.  Go with the girl,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the ambulance that was parked behind them. “She’s been calling for you since I took her back there.  The new tech’s been trying to get a line started on her but she’s not having any of it,” chuckling as he finished the sentence.  Oliver let out a breath of a laugh himself as he made the short walk over to the other vehicle.   
  
Kids were always the hardest, in Oliver's opinion, when first starting out in this job.  They weren’t afraid to tell you no and could hold a tantrum for quite some time.  And trying to ask them what hurt was like talking to a wounded animal.  They would either not make a sound but were obviously in pain or were crying so hard that they couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

During his first week on the job, he tried to wrap a sprained wrist on a little boy that had fallen off his bike when he got kicked in the groin. According to the boy, it was too tight and Oliver was going to "make his hand fall off." He’d apologized profusely thinking that he actually  _ was _ wrapping it too tight and then the boy had laughed at him because he had managed to pull one over on him.   
  
The sound of her high-pitched cries filled his ears before he turned the corner to the back of the ambulance.  Inside, Emerson was on the gurney, an oxygen mask half off her face, as the frazzled tech unsuccessfully tried to get her to calm down to get the IV for her fluids started.   
  
“How are we doing in here, Lance?”  Seeing that he had arrived, she visibly relaxed along with tiny Emerson who whimpered at the sight of a semi-familiar face.  Oliver grabbed a new pair of gloves as Sara moved over to make room for him on the bench.   
  
“I’m trying to find a good place, but she’s got the smallest veins.  If I keep sticking her, I’m gonna eat her hand up with bruises.” Emerson was sitting with her right hand clutched to her chest, protecting the small limb. 

“Try the other hand.  It’s not ideal, but I’d like to avoid going to the foot if we could.”  At the mention of doing it again, little Emerson screamed, pulling her hands even closer to her chest, trying to get as far away from Sara as possible.   
  
At this point Oliver knew he needed to take control of the situation.  He’s all for people keeping at it, and learning through mistakes, but at this point the goal was to keep this little girl’s emotional trauma down to a minimum.  Right now, Sara was only adding to it. 

“How about we take a break, Em? Sara’s gonna take a little walk and it’s just gonna be you and me, alright?”   
  
“No-o po-pokies-es?” She asked around tears and coughs. 

Oliver couldn't help but smile at the innocent word for the needle sticks. “No pokies for right now.”   
  
With a nod towards Sara, the blonde stood from the bench, discarding her gloves as she went before hopping out of the back of the ambulance. 

He could see the tension leaving her tiny shoulders as he sat alone with her in the vehicle, the silence giving her some comfort. Her eyes finally stopped filling with tears and she wiped her nose on her sleeve before he could even move to offer her a tissue. With a final sniffle Emerson flopped onto her side, her head landing on a pillow that Sara must have gotten for her.

For the next several minutes all she did was stare at him. The longer he watched her, the more Oliver noticed that the arm she had curled to her chest was more for protection of the limb itself rather than a source of comfort. Upon a closer inspection from the angle he was at, Oliver could see the fragile skin on her forearm turning various shades of green and blue. He would write in his initial report later that he suspected impact bruising to be the cause but that was up to the hospital staff to determine.

“Hey, Emerson?” he asked quietly, mindful of the fact that she was still in a state that resembled that of a frightened animal. “Does your arm hurt?” She gave a noncommittal shrug which told Oliver nothing practical that he needed to know. He glanced around the cabin of the ambulance, mentally cursing the techs for moving items and not putting them back where they go, before he located the laminated pain scale to his left. The scale had discomfort faces that had frowns that most humans could not make but it got the point across easily enough. “Can you point to the face that looks like how much you hurt?” he asked, holding the sheet in front of her.

Emerson lifted her tiny hand, her finger hovering back and forth between the ‘hurts a little more’ and ‘hurts even more’ option before muttering, “‘tween.”

“In between? Well how about we get you some medicine to make it hurt less?” Emerson nodded her head but he knew it would be short lived. “But in order to do that we have to do the pokie,” he finished, her eyes immediately going wide.

“Hey.” Oliver's attention was brought back to the doors when Diggle’s body blocked the sun that had been shining through. “Clean up crew found this while prepping the car for removal. It's not much but see if it helps.”

In Diggle's outstretched hand was a white stuffed bunny. From first glance Oliver knew how important the animal was. Probably given to the child at birth, the once uniform-colored fur was now full of various faded patches that showed signs of the animal being taken everywhere. 

Emerson, whose attention had been unwavered on anyone who entered her eyeline, immediately sat up, the pillow she was resting on falling to the floor in her haste. 

“Ali!”

Oliver had to quickly move to make sure the child didn’t fall off the gurney in her haste to get to the animal. He took the bunny that had been further dirtied by the tumble down the rocks and moved it within Emerson’s reach. Her grabby hands immediately smothered the animal’s head into her neck, half of the plush face caving inwards under the force. Both Oliver and Diggle couldn’t help but laugh at her reaction but were nevertheless glad that they were able to give her a familiar comfort.

“Okay, sweetheart,” Oliver said, grabbing alcohol pads and a new needle before removing the tape from his pocket and ripping off a piece before sticking one end to the top of his glove. “Are you ready?”

“Pokie time?” Her voice was full of the purest innocence he had ever heard and it just made him want to hold her until all her troubles went away.

“Do you want me to count before I do it?” The nod of her head into the rabbit gave him his permission to pick up her hand to clean the area where the vein he had chosen resided. ”You’re just gonna feel a little pinch and then it’ll be over, alright?”  When she saw him pick up the needle, her eyes immediately slammed shut and her other hand not held in his gripped the rabbit in her arm a little harder.  “Ready? 1....2….3.”  The sound of her whimper when he first slid the needle home made his chest feel like it was going to swallow itself whole.  No matter how many times he had to do this to a child it never got any easier. 

“Hurts,” she whispered, just peeking over the head of the bunny to look at Oliver. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know.  You’re doing great.”  With practiced ease, he placed the cannula, removed the needle, and placed the tape on top of her hand to hold the line down.  “There we go, all done. How about we get you some of that medicine now?”  While attaching the IV tubing and starting her fluid line, he turned to Sara who had just returned, sneaking past Diggle who was still standing at the doors watching the scene unfold.  “Could you grab some morphine for me, please?”

Diggle made his presence known again by calling out to Emerson, having just stepped inside the vehicle. “Would you like a prize for being so brave?” he asked, holding out a large square sticker that had an image of Thumper from  _ Bambi _ on it. Emerson squeezed her own bunny a little tighter before bashfully accepting the sticker with her unoccupied hand.

As soon as he had the vial and a new syringe Oliver stuck the needle into the rubber top, pulling the plunger back until it reached the indicator line for two milliliters.

Emerson gave him a curious glance as he removed the syringe from the vial, double checking the measurement, and stood to slowly push the contents into the secondary port of her fluids bag over the next couple of minutes. “Over?”

“It’s over, Em. Let’s go see your Momma.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's official. I am the worst person ever. I never intended to leave you all this long without an update but several things got in the way, including my self doubt. 
> 
> I honestly could not tell you how many times I have written and rewritten this chapter from scratch because it never seemed right. I'm at the point now where I'm never going to be happy with it for many reasons but I decided I needed to post it.
> 
> **ALSO, let it be known that new tags have been added**  
> I hope I did the topic justice.

The drive to Starling General was, thankfully, uneventful, giving Oliver time to start his report on Emerson.  For the entire ride the girl was quiet, watching him as she lay on the pillow sucking her thumb.  Oliver suspected it was a subconscious coping mechanism, as she didn’t look aware that she was doing it.  Another glance at her from his clipboard showed her eyes starting to droop, the stress of the morning finally getting to her.  

“Em, I know you’re tired,” he said, gently placing his hand on her small shoulder to rouse her, “but I need you to stay awake just a little longer, okay?”

The slight nod of her head was the only indication that she heard him but he could see that she was readjusting to focus on the rabbit that was sitting on the gurney next to her.

By the time the ambulance stopped at the emergency entrance, Oliver could see her anxiety returning as her eyes roamed rapidly, unsure of what was happening next.  He could hear John and Sara getting out of the front, the doors slamming behind them and the rear door opening in the next moment. 

“She ready to go?” Diggle asked, his left arm propped on the door he just opened.

“Yeah,” Oliver replied as he finished his final notes and closed the report, standing as straight as he could in the confined space.  As he started to move to unlock the brakes on the gurney to transport her into the emergency department, Oliver could see Emerson tensing, once again being faced with the unknown ahead of her.  She sat up as well as she could and withdrew her thumb from her mouth, her eyes moving rapidly between the open door and Oliver.  Emerson moved her arms around apprehensively, a habit he assumed she got from her mother, before she made a decision and silently raised them up to him.

And that made Oliver pause.

The look on her face was one of fear and trepidation.  Oliver could tell she was afraid.  Afraid of being passed off, forgotten.  Afraid of being surrounded by more people whose intentions she didn’t know.  She was seeking comfort in someone that she is familiar with, even if his familiarity has only been for a few nerve wracking minutes.  Before he could really think about what he was doing, Oliver’s hands moved to the strap securing her to one of the poorest definitions of a bed and released the buckle. 

Screw policy.

Being careful of the fluids line, Oliver lifted the toddler, moving her to his left hip.  Her tiny arms immediately went around his neck, her head landing on his shoulder.  With his left forearm securely underneath her Oliver moved the report folder to his other hand before he reached with his right to remove the IV bag from the pole it was hanging from.  As he moved towards the door, carefully stepping down to avoid jostling her too much, John gave him a smile that Oliver could tell was a tease at the mushiness he was showing.

“Not a word,” he simply stated as he walked past the larger man, raising the bag in his hand up to his head to keep the solution of saline and morphine flowing.

“I didn’t say anything,” Diggle said, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Then quit thinking it,” he called over his shoulder as the automatic doors opened, the wave of antiseptic air meeting him. Emerson shoved her nose further into the cotton of his shirt as the second set of doors opened and the sounds of highway traffic was replaced by telephone conversations, pagers, and heart monitors.

Oliver approached the nurses’ station silently hoping to find someone that wasn’t buried up to their neck in doctor’s orders long enough to direct him to a bay. He didn’t think through his plan of using his arm as an IV pole and, though it’s only been a couple minutes, Oliver could already start to feel the blood leaving the limb. But rather than heading towards a stressed out first-shifter Oliver had friendly exchanges with every now and then, his attention turned to the white coat who was signing off on a chart.

“Dr. Merlyn.”

The brunet turned at the mention of his name, his ever-present doctoral expression falling upon finding Oliver as the source.  With a final note scribbled down, Tommy passed the chart off to the waiting nurse before clicking his pen closed. “Oliver, how many times do I have to tell you to stop with the formalities?”

“I’ll stop when you no longer have the title, which will be never.” Oliver held in his chuckle as he saw Tommy suppressing the urge to roll his eyes at him.  After a painful crush of Emerson’s nose into Oliver’s collar bone and another tingle in his hand reminding him of the blood-lacking limb, Oliver refocused his attention. “Please tell me you have a bay open.”

With a tilt of his head, Tommy silently told Oliver to follow him to an open bed, grabbing a nurse along the way.  “What do we have?”

“Three-year-old female involved in a rollover. Complaining of pain in the right forearm. Vitals are normal and consciousness was retained. Two mills of morphine in the fluids.”

“Where are her parents?”   


“Mother was the only other one in the vehicle. She was airlifted out with abdominal bleeding but I lost status. Father’s whereabouts are unknown,” Oliver stated as he hung the IV bag before gently depositing Emerson onto the bed.

Tommy nodded as he pulled on a pair of gloves turning to the nurse.  “See if we can’t track her mother down and see where she went once she arrived here.”  With a nod the young nurse left, pulling the curtain closed as she left.

At the mention of her mother Emerson turned to Oliver, her blue eyes wide. “See Momma?”

“We’ll see her in a little bit, okay?” His hand subconsciously rubbed over her back trying to ease the discomfort she had of not being next to people she knew.  “We have to make sure that you’re okay first.  Tommy here is going to help us do that.” With a barely noticeable nod, Emerson turned her head down.  “Is the medicine making you feel any better, Emerson?” Oliver asks, trying to get an idea about how her pain management might need to be adjusted.

The toddler didn’t answer his question, instead choosing to voice her own. “Momma get some, too? I don’t like when Momma get hurt.”

The question took Oliver by surprise.  Most grown adults still lack the sense of awareness to put others in front of themselves, let alone a three-year-old. .And by the way Tommy was looking at the Emerson, he was just as surprised as Oliver was.

“I’m sure your Momma got some medicine, too.”

Emerson gave no read into her emotions, closing down almost entirely and not looking at Tommy or Oliver, only stroking the ears of the rabbit in her hands over and over again. The two men exchanged silent glances before Tommy moved closer to the gurney, sitting on the edge near her feet.

“Ollie told me that you hurt your arm in the car this morning, do you mind if I look at it?”

“Not mornin’.  I hurted it playing with Daddy last night.”

Before either of them had time to follow up with this new information, the same young nurse from before peeked her head into the curtain before fully walking in.  She handed over a report to Tommy, which Oliver assumed was Felicity’s patient file.  While he quickly skimmed the folder, the nurse quietly relayed information, barely speaking above a whisper.  Tommy’s facial expression gave no sign of anything out of the ordinary, but the slight tightening of his hand around the chart betrayed that.  Not that anyone besides Oliver noticed.  Benefits of spending your entire life with someone he supposed.

Tommy gave the report one last glance before turning to the nurse, speaking in the same quiet tones, “Please tell her attending that I said it would benefit him greatly to do a head and chest x-ray of her once she is out of surgery.  I will also be putting in an order for a scan on the right forearm of our young patient.  If they give you any slack, tell them to call me.”

The nurse left the curtained area in what could only be described as a scurrying fashion before Tommy turned his attention back to Emerson.  But before he could get in a word, a barrage of voices got louder outside their fabric barrier.

“Where is she? Where is my daughter?!”

“Sir, you don’t have permission to go back there!  _ Sir! _ ”

“Emerson!  Emerson!” Oliver felt the muscles of Emerson’s back twitch slightly under the hand that was still on her tiny frame just before the curtain flung open.  Oliver barely had time to look at the guy before he came barrelling into the area, practically running Oliver over trying to get to the toddler. “ _ Oh _ , baby girl are you alright?”

The toddler silently nodded as the sandy-haired guy gave her a once over. Oliver could have sworn he saw the muscles in the guy’s face momentarily harden before he turned to Tommy. “What the hell happened?  Why did I have to find out that my girlfriend and my daughter were in the hospital from a fellow executive in my board meeting?  Why wasn’t I notified?”

It was only then that Oliver noticed the attire the man was wearing.  The shoes were Italian leather, the tie was silk, and his white pressed shirt was free of any imperfections, despite the fact that he just came running through a hospital..  Dressed in a suit that Oliver knew cost more than what he made in a month, the man exuded power.  He was the type of guy that turned everyone he met into yes-men who were desperate to please or to form alliances.  Oliver would know, he was surrounded by them up until he was a young adult.

Tommy spoke beside him, “Sir--”

“Julian Sanford,” he spoke quickly, cutting Tommy off.

“Mr. Sanford, I can assure you that we are working as best as we can. We were still in the process of trying to contact next of kin, which can be difficult with limited information.”

Oliver could see the muscles in the man’s -- Julian’s -- body trying to relax.  “I apologize.  It’s just...their my entire life, you know?  I wouldn’t know what to do without them.”

“I understand, Mr. Sanford.  I would like to do a couple of x-rays on both your daughter and your girlfriend just to make sure that we are clear of any future complications if that is okay with you.”

Taking a deep breath Julian sighed before turning back to Emerson and laying a hand on top of her head. “Of course. Whatever you need to do to make sure I won’t be without my girls.”

* * *

 

Oliver had just come to do a final check-in on Emerson before he left for the fire station and clocked out for the day.  Felicity was still in recovery after her surgery to repair the abdominal bleeding and he just didn’t have the time to wait until she woke up.  He had promised her that he would see her later. And he would.  Just after a shower, food, and much needed sleep. 

  
"Oliver." The voice broke just within the curtain barrier and he turned to see the face of his best friend. He had a polite smile on his face, the one he plasters on in front of the patients that masks concern. "Can I borrow you for a second?"   
  
"Yeah, sure." After excusing himself, he followed Tommy to a secluded end of the hall where he noticed the two large manila folders that were in his hands.    
  
"I know this wasn't your first priority when you were at the scene, but did you write up a report on them?"   
  
"I did one on the daughter on the way over. I didn't have enough time with her mother. Just a visual assessment of major injuries to stabilize her enough to get her into the AirMedic. Harper was with her after that. Why?" In answer, Tommy opened one of the envelopes in his hands, pulling out an x-ray and passing it over.    
  
"What does that look like to you?"   
  
With questioning eyes, Oliver lifted the film above his head, the fluorescent light illuminating the image. Before him was an image of an arm, the arm of young Emerson, running from mid-forearm to the tips of the fingers. He didn't have the greatest experience with x-ray analysis but he had learned enough. Starting from the top, his eyes roamed down the image. The phalanges were fine. The metacarpals were straight and intact and the connection to the wrist was as normal as to be expected. But right at the center of the radius was where the problem lies.  Running from left to right diagonally across the bone was the faintest of lines. He almost missed it at first but once he found it he couldn't take his eyes off of it. 

Spiral fracture.    
  
"Shit." Lowering the scan back down, he passed it back to Tommy's waiting hand. "Her mother did this?"   
  
"Highly doubt it," he said handing him another x-ray, this time obviously of Emerson's mother, a scan of her head to be more precise. "There are several fissures around her nose and both eyes. She also appears to have broken her jaw several years ago based on the remodeling, but I can't determine if it's from abuse.  The scan of her ribs looks just as remodeled, though."

“The father then?”

“On the record? Anyone in their everyday lives is a likely candidate right now.  Off the record?  Based on that little girl’s behavior around that man, I would suspect so.”   
  
So Oliver wasn’t the only one that noticed Emerson’s reactions.  It thought it might have been a one-time thing, that she got scared by his sudden intrusion the first time.  And then the cringe happened again.  Oliver had put the stress of the day as the cause, but his gut telling him that something more was going on has never been wrong before.

Shit.

Oliver handed the scan back before closing his eyes and scrubbing his hands over his face, his longer-than-usual stubble scratching his palms. He immediately dropped them, already turning on his heel without a second glance back. 

The only thought that ran through his mind was questions. Why… _ how  _ could someone willingly do this? What horrible act occurred in this person’s life that they feel the need to take it out on someone else? When is this violence as a way of showing control going to stop? 

He felt sick when he realized it never  _ was  _ going to stop. 

There is always going to be someone that is so insecure in themselves and afraid of losing control that they lower others to stay at the top. There will always be someone that rejects reason and states that everything is fine to the public while there are people on the other side having to live with the fear of the dehumanizing consequences when they inevitably disappoint. 

But the thought of a _child,_ of Emerson, not knowing at such a young age what is right and what is wrong...putting her trust in someone and having it turn back on her…

Oliver wanted to ram his fist into a wall. More preferably into the face of the low-life who did this to her.  To  _ both _ of them.

He'd barely made it three steps before a hand clapped onto the top of his shoulder, spinning him around. 

“Don’t do this,” Tommy said, his hand remaining on his shoulder to keep him from moving.  Before Oliver could even begin to argue with him, to say he  _ wasn’t _ going to do anything -- no matter how much he wanted to act on it -- he was being cut off.  “You’re forgetting that I’ve known you my entire life, and having been on the receiving end several times, I know when you are about to go punch someone.”

“I’m not going to punch anyone,” he gritted out, meeting his best friend’s eyes.

“I would be more convinced if you weren’t currently trying to permanently embed your fingernails into your palm,” Tommy countered, nodding his head towards Oliver’s right hand, which was indeed curled into a tight fist.  Oliver forced his fingers to straighten, the digits tingling with the sudden return of blood flow.

“Then what am I supposed to do, Tommy? I can’t just let hi-...I can’t let whoever did this get away with it!” His voice rose higher than he intended, catching the attention of a few nurses.  

“You know what we’re supposed to do just like you know that they’re not going to get away with this. I presented the situation to the higher-up.  _ He’s  _ got to make the judgement call, Oliver, not me.  But I can almost guarantee that DCPS will be here within the next few hours. The evidence is as plain as day.”

And Oliver knew that. 

He couldn’t blame Tommy for following the very important protocol for situations like this. He did what he was supposed to do; he saw the signs and immediately reported them after ruling out any other medical reason or possibility. DCPS would arrive in a few hours. 

The keyword here, though, was hours. The situation would be addressed  _ later _ when, really, something needed to be done  _ now. Now _ is when that innocent child is alone with someone that Oliver refuses to acknowledge as her father.  More accurately, he’d really like to refuse him as human altogether. 

“Then how the hell do we get him away from her until they show up?” Oliver asked as he turned his gaze back to the curtain that contained the toddler, giving up trying to show innocence equality. “Because I’ll be damned if I leave her alone with him.”

“The bottom line is that right now her mother is unable to give proper informed consent about her daughter’s treatment.  Because her father is now acting power of attorney, all treatment plans have to be approved by him. Until the call is made and the claim of abuse is appropriately supported, we don’t have the right to separate a minor from her parent or treat her without his permission,” Tommy stated as though he’s said it a hundred times. It made Oliver sick to think that he probably  _ has  _ said that sentence a hundred times. “Look. The moment I get the call, he’s gone. But until then he has the same right to stay with his child just as any other responsible parent does,” he said as he started walking away. “No matter how fucked up it is.”

  
Oliver has never heard truer words in his life.


End file.
